Overboard

I could see a vivid outline of the rain puddle the Friday evening. With no raincoat and umbrella, I searched for refuge from him.

On his arrival, I was caught off guard when I opened the front door opposite the driver’s seat and saw her with her bubbly smile, eyeing me from head to toe, and dressed in a skirt short enough to draw perfect imaginary lines to the top of her curved and oily thighs.

They both stared at me hoping I would get the message to seat at the back. I seemed to have missed the memo but with the quenching rain interrupting my thought process I went along with what was going on.

Silent in my confused emotions, they kept talking, with the lady tapping him here and there. Couldn’t she see his wedding ring? Life must be playing tricks on me. I unintentionally found myself giggling in my own thoughts as I stared through the window, which helped cool off my heart engine or else whatever was clouding my heart would bewitch me to strangle her just a little from behind to give her a scare. Psychopath much?

Well, every board game represents a battle between two armies and some of us play ugly and ruthless if provoked. ‘She must be a slut,’ I told myself. How comes he wasn’t speaking to me? And he had made no introductions whatsoever.

Arriving home to the scent of lavender, his sorry ass invited her to my house in my living room for a cup of tea. Wait! Hold on! Someone was pulling my leg and I wasn’t sure if it was a test but my patience scratched mercilessly on the walls of my brain for an escape.
Touching the delicate blooms that are sacred to me, she rejected the offer and requested to head home. They talked at the corridor leaving the front door slightly open hosting a cold breeze.

In fury, I chatted two of my best friends on my phone who, for some valid reason, lived in the same apartment with me. They walked in on her when they came in to see me.

A minute before the 10 minutes chaos, I went to her and asked her kindly, ‘What’s your name?’. And that’s all I needed.

Next thing I recall as I closed my door and went for my brewed hot coffee was her skirt torn from her body, my so-called husband fighting among three women, and blood splattered on my polished windows.

Don’t get me wrong, I do love a challenge but only when it’s accompanied by a large bowl of respect. You will never know a psychopath until you incite one ever so slightly.

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2 thoughts on “Overboard”

This post kinda made me feel some type of way, and not a good way! I wonder how fiction writers survive without having a grudge in the real world because of an unreal world that they created. You know?